Sweet dreams are made of this

Volunteers say granting wishes to ill children is a gift in itself

THE WISH Patrick Cadogan (right, with his brother Ryan) asked for two tickets to all of this year's Red Sox home games. Both boys suffer from neurofibromatosis type II. (Photos by michele mcdonald/globe staff)

Whenever Patrick Cadogan parks himself in seat No. 11 at Fenway Park this summer, his wish comes true.

"I'm always excited," said Cadogan, 18, sitting with his brother Ryan, 17, in the handicapped area off first base.

Cadogan scored 162 Red Sox home game tickets, thanks to the staffers and volunteers with the Make-A-Wish Foundation of Massachusetts.

Although he had requested two tickets to each home game, Cadogan was surprised to learn that the tall order was fulfilled.

"It sounded too good to be true," Cadogan said.

Summer is the busiest time for wishes in the Bay State. At Make-A-Wish, 20 staffers coordinate with a team of volunteers, called wish granters, who scramble to grant 340 wishes a year, the bulk happening in June, July, and August. The goal: give children between the ages of 2 1/2 and 18 who are afflicted with a life-threatening medical condition or illness a chance to have fun through a unique request, such as meeting Red Sox stars Curt Schilling or David Ortiz, visiting Disney World, or swimming with dolphins.

"It's not a gift. It's very distinct. It's an experience," said Charlotte Beattie, chief executive officer of the foundation in Massachusetts, which has doled out 3,800 wishes since it opened in 1987. The average cost of a wish is $6,000, which is paid for by private donations and corporate funds. "You are wishing for something that brings you great joy and happiness."

As she sat in the organization's Boston offices with Julie Abel, the director of program services, the women rattled off recent wish requests. Jungle gyms. Princess-inspired bedroom makeovers. Shopping sprees.

Then there are the unconventional wishes: a name on Fenway Park's scoreboard or shadowing celebrity chef Ming Tsai. Some wishes are a race against time, filled within 36 hours because of the severity or advanced stage of the child's illness.

And some simply can't be granted, such as meeting the president. Some young children even ask if they can see a relative who has died.

"Our volunteers always ask our children to share their first wish choice and also a second wish just in case we are not able to fulfill the first wish request," said Beattie, surrounded by framed children's drawings of wishes in her agency's conference room, known as the wish factory. "It is rare that we are not able to fulfill a wish . . . but if it does happen we have the second wish request ready to go."

'It's a source of inspiration'
Julia Kendrick, 27, added "wish granter" to her resume five years ago when she began volunteering with Make-A-Wish. She was inspired by her best friend's mother, a volunteer with the agency. Kendrick believed the interaction with children and their families would help make her a better doctor.

"When I am in the library at 2 a.m. studying biochemistry, the wish kids are the people you think of," she said on a break from research at Tufts' School of Medicine. To become a volunteer, Kendrick attended one day of wish training that involved learning how to deal with the families and keep the children invested in their wishes. "What I'm doing is not really that hard. It's a source of inspiration to keep my eye on the prize."

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Make-A-Wish coordinators e-mail their volunteers a list of kids, ages, and hometowns. Doctors, social workers, or neighbors often suggest children for the wish process.

"You get to play Santa Claus for little kids," said Kendrick, who has helped make 10 wishes happen for local children.

Last August, Kendrick signed up to help Cadogan, who has neurofibromatosis type II, an illness that causes tumors to grow on the spine and auditory nerves. It took several months to fulfill Cadogan's wish because he decided that he wanted the Red Sox tickets last October, just as the season was ending.

"We had to wait until the start of the next season," said Kendrick, who along with a fellow volunteer bought Red Sox caps for Cadogan and his brother when she first met them. As the foundation handled logistics with Red Sox officials, Kendrick visited the Cadogan home and regularly called with updates.

In April, word came in. Make-A-Wish coordinators hit a home run for Cadogan: They scored two tickets to each of the 81 home games, which the Red Sox sold to the nonprofit at a discount.

Meanwhile, Kendrick worked with Cadogan's mother, Kathy, to break the news over a surprise dinner at a Marshfield restaurant.

The night before Easter, Cadogan opened his dinner menu, titled "Patrick's Wish Prize Party," and found a pair of season tickets inside. Kendrick also gave him a Red Sox jacket to wear to the games.

Since the season began, Cadogan has attended 52 of the 56 home games. He brings his brother, a relative, or a friend as a guest. Because the wish is already underway, Kendrick is no longer in the picture. She's moved on to another wish project.

"She has called to see how he's doing and if he's enjoying the tickets," said Kathy Cadogan, who watched her sons sitting side by side in the stands. "It's been an incredible dream for him."

The games have served as spiritual medicine for the Cadogan family. Younger brother Ryan also has the illness but is able to walk, though he has lost his hearing. Their father died from the disease 11 years ago, said Kathy, a former nurse. Three years ago Patrick was able to run. Now he uses a wheelchair.

"I have been using it for long walks," he says, while watching the game at Fenway. The disease has also made breathing more difficult. "I am losing a lot of my muscles. It's muscle-wasting. I can walk a little."

As Patrick chugged his soda and munched on a hot dog, it was clear that he was having a ball.

"I still have things wrong in my life, but it takes my mind off things for a little while," he said. "I get to share a good time and hang out."

A note-perfect gift
Eighteen miles away in Natick, another wish took form.

Victor Naeve, 13, was diagnosed with leukemia in February 2007 after he complained to his mother about "feeling funny" whenever he lay down. A chest exam at the hospital revealed that Victor had a tumor "the size of a grapefruit" that was squeezing his trachea, said his mother, Gail Davis.

"At the hospital, he looked at me and said, 'I can't believe I am going to be a cancer survivor,' " Davis recalled.

Enter Shari Mega, Victor's wish granter from Waltham. Since March 2007, she has met with Victor and his family to work on his wish: a piano and music lessons. Delaying the process: Victor's trips to the hospital for radiation and chemotherapy treatments.

On July 10, Victor got his wish.

A stretch limo arrived at Victor's Dedham home and chauffeured him and his mother to Boston Organ & Piano in Natick. Two new black Yamaha pianos awaited.

With crutches and a soft smile, the red-haired boy stepped inside and tested the pianos. He played one of his own compositions.

After his fingers waltzed the ivories, he chose the bigger piano.

"It's deep. I like the action. It's great," Victor said, as his mother, Mega, and Make-A-Wish officials applauded. Sitting on the piano was a sign that read: "I promise to jazz up your life."

Mega also gave him a gift bag filled with pencils, sheet music, and a metronome. She baked him a chocolate cake in the shape of a piano with Kit Kat and white chocolate bars serving as the musical keys.

Before cutting the cake, Victor beamed and looked at his piano.

"This will last forever hopefully," he said.

Johnny Diaz can be reached at jodiaz@globe.com.